


Father

by maryfic



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2743322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryfic/pseuds/maryfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one really likes Hank Summers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father

**Author's Note:**

> Random word prompt: father. 
> 
> Originally posted on my fic tumblr: maryfic.tumblr.com

Dawn hate her father. Oh yes, hates him with every sparkly, teenage and mystical part of her body. Giles tried to tell her the memories are false, created by the monks when they made her out of Buffy. But she knows differently. Sneaking in and reading Buffy’s diary only confirmed her suspicions, and it was the first thing she’d asked her sister about, down in the hole in the cemetery, when Buffy had finally admitted everything to her. 

She saw Hank hit Buffy once. Now Dawn knows that it was just after she was called, but then she just knew Buffy had come home late and her parents were fighting again. The older girl had grabbed his hand and bent the wrist back to the point of breaking. Only a plea from Joyce had kept Buffy’s control from snapping. And she’d never seen that look on Buffy’s face before – a terrible fury, matched with exhaustion, but determined to stay the course. 

Other memories she doesn't belong in, like the long drive from L.A. to Sunnydale after the divorce. The night the school burned down and she and Buffy celebrated quietly under the covers in her room, her hands petting Buffy’s blond curls as the other girl cried into her lap. Dawn didn't get it, but something inside her knew Buffy had nowhere else to go and no one to talk to about whatever stuff was going on. 

Hank had left them, blatantly, making a scene, throwing accusations like fire bombs to the three female Summers, lined up in the living room. Joyce, cold, angry, and unmoving; just in front of her girls as though she could shield them from the man they called Dad. Buffy, her arms wrapped tight around Dawn and hands over her ears. Her own eyes squeezed tight against the world. 

It had hurt, badly, to watch his tantrum, the histrionics, and it had tired all of them out. For hours they had curled together on the couch until Joyce had sort of laughed and cried at the same time and said she’d hidden a pint of rocky road behind the frozen carrots and would anyone be interested? 

Watching her mom struggle to deal with Buffy’s weirdness and the management of the household had only stoked the bitter feelings towards Hank, and they didn't come out in the best of ways. Dawn knew that other people had bad fathers too. She just didn't think they hated them this much, an unyielding force sitting right behind her rib cage. Maybe it was a Key thing. Or maybe it was just a Dawn thing.


End file.
